Pitfalls
by District11-Olive
Summary: "I want to bring them here," he says simply. "All of them. It is not safe for them in the districts, I have heard that there is distaste for them in many areas. I will expand the apartments and they will live there to be watched by my men in order to ensure their safety. I cannot allow this to happen, it will ruin me." Welcome to the 105th Hunger Games!
1. Buried Part One

**Masterpiece Theatre I by Mariana's Trench**

_First it comes on quiet, creeping slow  
Clever words and phrases only stain  
I remain so lost and buried under everything that I need._

* * *

**Tamon Cyrus, 7, Son of the President**

"He's just outside the door," I hear Mother say softly as the crack between the frame and the door grows larger. My mother's pale face appears for a fleeting second, her eyes lighting up as they rest on me. Then it's gone again and I can only hear muffled voices pattering against the office walls.

I swing my legs back and forth over the ground, the tips of my polished black shoes never coming close to touching it. My fingertips tap impatiently against the silver base of the chair as the floor creaks with footsteps from the next room. My teeth bite nervously into my cheek as I watch the base of the door, careful not to stare because Mother says that that is rude.

The door opens again and my mother steps out, her cheeks flushed but otherwise looking much like she always does in a pretty yellow dress. I open my lips to address her before promptly closing them again. I remember my lessons, I am not to speak out of turn now that I am old enough to know better.

"Come along, Tamon," she says softly and puts out her hand to me. I stand from my chair and take her hand in mine, following as she leads me out of the small waiting room and down the hallway towards the kitchen. "Your father will join us when he is ready."

I nod but say nothing, opting to follow her to the kitchen in silence. When we enter through the glass doors I see Avigail in her highchair with one of her nannies feeding her something out of a plastic bowl. Her face lights up when she sees Mother and I, her lips opening to reveal her two front teeth. Mother releases my hand and I climb onto the chair across from Avigail where a plate setting lays empty and ready for me.

The nanny calls to the back and one of the servants, clothed in red, brings out a tray of food and sets it on the table. I choose two round pieces of bread and a small hunk of meat. Before I even start eating, the nanny spoons a fist-sized portion of carrots onto my plate. I give her a face but say nothing, my cheeks reddening when I realize how childish I am being.

My father comes in just a few minutes later and Mother leaves with her plate to go lay down, telling all of us that she has a headache. I smile and nod as she leaves and go back to my meal.

Father goes into the servery and comes out with a steaming bowl of soup. He places it in front of the chair beside me and takes a seat. I acknowledge him with a courteous nod but no greeting as it is rude to talk with your mouth full.

"Tamon, have you a moment?" He asks me not so much as a question but as a dismissal to the nanny and servers. The woman takes Avigail out of her highchair and exits towards her bedroom to clean her while the servers close the doors between the rooms.

"Of course, Father."

"I was hoping that you might help me with a few things seeing as your mother hasn't been feeling well enough to."

I nod. Mother has been complaining of headaches lately as I can remember.

"Very well," he smiles. "I'll send for you later today, then."

I do well to hide my disappointment. I had hoped that he would want to talk to me right then, but of course it makes perfect sense that he would request complete privacy. He often does this, even if he is not looking to discuss serious matters. I like to think that he enjoys our company in solitude where we will not be disturbed.

* * *

**Alena Cyrus, President's Wife**

The door opens and my body stiffens, knowing that there is only one person who would disturb me in my chambers when I requested to be alone. I do not open my eyes even when I hear the bed creak beside me as he sits down. He knows well that I do not wish to discuss much of anything during the weeks before or during the annual Hunger Games.

"Alena, my dear, are you not unwell?"

"I simply have a migraine, not to worry," I respond. Opening my eyes to see my husband seated beside me just as I had suspected.

"I had hoped you would be able to aid me with some decisions," he says quietly. I sigh but sit up and turn my body towards him, giving him as much of my attention as I could. Though I wish nothing more than to request him to leave me be, it is my duty as his wife to aid him in any way I am able. Unfortunately, as the wife of the President of Panem, this requires much more stress on myself than need be. The Hunger Games is a stressful time in his office and I often regret that I am not softer with my opinions around him.

"Of course."

"I have confirmation about the second Training Academy that is to be opened in the Jade district next month," he begins and I see that his features are hardened. This has been one of the most difficult times for him due to the recent demands of parents and children of the Capitol alike. It was just six months after the completion of the Quarter Quell that a Training Academy was opened in the downtown. I understand that the rise in willing teenagers to enter the Hunger Games has him worried. Particularly that Tamon or Avigail might be among them someday. He can protect them from the Reaping, such is the power of the President, but can do nothing should they themselves choose to volunteer.

"That is disturbing news," I nod solemnly.

"Unfortunately not the worst of it, my dear." His eyes hide from mine and I put my hand on his shoulder, softly urging the news out of him. "The rumours have proved true. Linett Midori is dead."

My lips form an 'o' but I am unable to find the words to speak. Word reached Cyrus last weekend about a possible suicide in the Victor's home, but the poor girl had locked every door and window to her home where she lived alone. I presume they were just now able to enter it and retrieve her body. "Such is the way of the mind. She was young, much younger than the other Victors. This was no fault of yours, Cyrus."

I say the words but I don't believe a bit of them. The Hunger Games leave its Victors as mere shells, and I am almost surprised that it has taken this long for this tragedy to happen. I will not speak my thoughts aloud, but if there is a man to blame for Linett's passing it is the man sitting right in front of me.

"I want to bring them here," he says simply. "All of them. It is not safe for them in the districts, I have heard that there is distaste for them in many areas. I will expand the apartments and they will live there to be watched by my men in order to ensure their safety. I cannot allow this to happen, it will ruin me. It will ruin the Hunger Games."

I nod, understanding by the hardness of his words that he has already decided that this is to happen. There is nothing I will be able to produce that will change his thinking, that I understand with perfect clarity. He is my husband and I love him in that sense, but in his role as President there is not a man alive who I despise more than Cyrus.

* * *

**Yes, I'm doing another one.**

**This is a SYOT story for the 105****th**** Hunger Games. As of now there are no spots filled and I will be doing open submissions. Basically anyone that wishes to submit a tribute must do so before the date below, using the form found on my profile. After that date I will choose the twenty-four best tributes to be featured in this story. **

**Important Information;**

**-This is a continuation of my verse (see my profile for details).**

**-Careers are District One/District Two/Capitol.**

**-There is no District Twelve/Thirteen.**

**-The Capitol will send in tributes (Careers are new here- Academy established as of the 101****st**** Hunger Games).**

**-Names are **_**important**_**.**

**-Personalities and histories must be creative but **_**realistic**_**.**

**-You may submit as many tributes as you like, but only one per submitter is able to be accepted.**

_**Submission Deadline- July 18****th**** at 11:59 PM/ EST**_

**If you have any questions or you want to run something by me you can always private message me. It would probably help your chances of getting in actually. Remember, though, that I will not tell you if you were accepted prior to the deadline.**

**After the submission deadline I will post the next chapter with the official tribute list. Somewhere around that time I will send out notices to the submitters who were accepted. If you see that your tribute was not accepted and would like some feedback as to why, you may feel free to message me for my reasons. I will **_**not**_** be sending out messages to say you weren't accepted, that's just too stressful sorry. **

**That is basically it. I hope a lot of you will submit and I am looking forward to receiving all of your wonderful tributes! Good luck all and welcome to **_**Pitfalls! **_


	2. Buried Part Two

**Masterpiece Theatre I by Marianas Trench**

_Keep those tired eyes closed  
Careful, follow my instruction  
And I will show you self-destruction._

* * *

**Wyn Rolant, 30, Victor of the 93****rd**** Hunger Games**

It's unthinkable that after all these years of living in the District Nine Victor Village, I have been ordered to move. Not only to move, but to move back to the place I am already forced to visit once per year. Oh Linett, I'm so glad you don't have to see the day that we were ordered back to the Capitol.

I'm still not used to talking to her like this in my head. It's not the same as speaking aloud to someone that you can see, but I guess it's the best that can be done right now. It's been nearly a month since I was forced to call the authorities to report that she wouldn't open her door. I had been visiting her more than once a day, knowing that she was unwell but never really considering what the consequences of that were.

I can just about understand the loneliness that Linett would describe to me on those days where she would walk over to my doorstep. The late nights when she felt particularly bad and she told me it helped to simply hear my voice. I never told her what I remember watching during her Hunger Games. How uplifting it was to see that her district partner had such sympathy for her that he chose her life over his. I was the same age as Linett, it was like a beacon of hope that maybe everything wasn't as screwed up as it looked.

I remember her telling me about her district partner, an eighteen year old boy named Hutt. It was one of those things she would only talk about when her eyelids were to heavy to protest or her pupils were too big to know what was coming out of her mouth. But her stories always erupted into sobs just before she reached the end. I never pressed her, it felt wrong to.

Besides, I knew what had happened. I watched it, live. Hutt and Linett made it through to the finale, I remember District Nine was ecstatic, and Hutt hid Linett in the nearby bushes until he killed the District Five boy. People say that the Capitol forgot about Linett in the midst of such an entertaining fight, otherwise they fear that the Capitol would have interfered and killed her immediately. Whatever did happen, Hutt turned the sickle he used to kill his last opponent on his own neck and took his life. The hovercraft picked a tiny, shaking Linett out of the bushes and the rest is history.

The guilt must have been incredible, but there was nothing she could have done. She was so young and so scared. I wish there was something I could have done to take the demons from her head. Maybe then she would be packing alongside me, preparing to move to the Capitol with me instead of being contained within one of the urns I am having sent ahead of me.

When Linett was discovered her family, who was still living within District Nine on request of their daughter, gave me permission to do what I thought would be best for her. I was notably the closest one to her despite the lack of a blood relation, but I still don't feel worthy of this honor. It took me days but I finally decided to have her cremated. It didn't feel right to have her beautiful, pale body locked away in the ground. Maybe somewhere between the wisps of smoke in her cremation she would be freed to take over the sky. I kept the urn and it's already halfway to my new home by now, in one of the packages I requested to be shipped ahead of time.

At least she'll be there waiting for me when I arrive, in some sort of backwards way.

I place a couple more shirts in one of the bags I was provided with a couple of days ago. That is all I got, less than a week before the Hunger Games a collection of bags and boxes along with a note telling me that I am to be ready to leave District Nine behind by the day of the Reaping. It still doesn't feel real, that I'm leaving this place. It's been twelve years since I became a Victor, and for all of those I have lived in this house with Linett just next door. Within the space of a few weeks I am left with neither of the things that have become so familiar to me. What else has to happen to me before I am left like Linett, scared, alone, and broken? How much more loss can I truly take?

* * *

**Damon Cyrus, President of Panem**

Everything is running as smoothly as I had hoped. I watch as the construction happens in front of me, well on a screen connected to the site anyway. The Victor Apartments, I have nicknamed the structures. Four buildings, the first a very wide building containing three floors. I have nicknamed the building 'Alpha House' and it has been built to house twenty Victors from each of District One, District Two, and the Capitol.

The second of the four buildings also has three floors and has been nicknamed 'Zeta House'. It will be able to hold fifteen Victors from each of District Three, District Four, and District Five. 'Iota House' is the third building, also with three floors and made to hold fifteen Victors from each of District Six, District Seven, and District Eight. The final building, 'Sigma House' will house ten Victors from each of District Nine, District Ten, and District Eleven spread out over three floors.

The construction has come along beautifully, and it has been assured to me several times over that the buildings will be completed for the start of the Hunger Games when all Victors not acting as Mentors this year will be moved in. Messages about the new living arrangements have already been sent out to each of the districts, and I hope they are as excited about it as I am. I plan to have the buildings monitored as closely as possible with surveillance set up in each room. Nothing like Linett Midori will ever happen again. I will make certain of that.

A knock at the door halts my thoughts and I yell for them to enter. The door handle turns slowly and the door is opened, revealing my son, Tamon, his hair neatly combed and shoes shined.

"Tamon," I smile. "What brings you, son?"

"I had a question," he says sheepishly. "Mother said to ask you."

"A question?" I ask, motioning for him to have a seat in the chair in front of my desk. "A question about what, son?"

"The Hunger Games."

"Ah, I see," I say calmly. Of course Alena would send him to me to ask about this. She hates discussing anything having to do with the Hunger Games, especially in front of the children. I know she fears them, especially now that Capitol tributes are being chosen, but I have told her time and time again that our children will never have anything to fear. The day they are reaped is the day that I go into the Hunger Games myself. Their names will never even grace the Reaping bowls.

"Why do the tributes that lose have to die?" He asks directly, lowering his eyes. I have made sure that Alena teaches both out children the correct way of speaking to others, but it seems that Tamon's shy nature is damning him. Perhaps I will have to teach the boy myself, he is the future leader of Panem and must begin to act like it. I can't have him shying away from questions that he seeks answer to. He has to demand respect so that no one will ever question his leadership.

"It's tradition," I say simply. "You remember your history lessons, don't you?"

"Yes."

"That is the reason, to state it simply. As you will learn, people take tradition very seriously, if you begin changing tradition it will always lead to unrest and unrest leads to tragedy like the Mockingjay Rebellion."

"Oh," he says flatly.

I reach out across the table to him. "Do you understand? There are necessary sacrifices that have to be made to keep the peace in our great nation. The tributes that fall every year, there are only twenty-three of them. But with their sacrifice there will not be another Rebellion, another war. If that were to happen there would be many more deaths than twenty-three."

"I understand," he answers. "A sacrifice to save the other people."

"Exactly," I smile. "You have been learning your lessons well, I'm very proud of you, Tamon."

"May I see the relay from the arena construction?" He asks after a moment and I smile. Alena may not understand the reasons behind the Hunger Games and why they are so necessary to Panem, but Tamon is learning to. Let Alena raise Avigail how she feels is best for the girl, but I will raise Tamon to be the greatest leader that our nation has ever seen because that, I know, is best for him.

* * *

**The Tributes**

**District One**

Aviera Chamberlin, 18

Drew Marchand, 16

**District Two**

Eliara Visceral, 18

Roland Durant, 17

**District Three**

Beatrix Fallion, 15

Theo Aldaine, 16

**District Four**

Dane Odell, 17

Bryn Patel, 18

**District Five**

Fedora Riley, 16

Rideux Desmarias, 18

**District Six**

Ula Fredrickson, 16

Indio Enoch, 14

**District Seven**

Dabria Levine, 17

Brinley Wagner, 17

**District Eight**

Risa Araya, 14

Toby Alvarez, 13

**District Nine**

Arista Harkin, 15

Cian Vautier, 18

**District Ten**

Tavia Peri, 18

Destry Lowes, 14

**District Eleven**

Linnea Varelle, 18

Rhys Gable, 17

**Capitol**

Taryn Merrell, 16

Cornelius Willcot, 17

* * *

**The blog has now been posted and can be found on my profile.**

* * *

**The artist theme for this story will be**_** Marianas Trench.**_

**Song: **_**Masterpiece Theatre I**_

* * *

**From now on, a question or two will be asked at the end of each chapter which I would love for you to answer, and I also ask for a general review on my writing as well, if you would be so kind.**

**_From just the blog profiles, who are your six favourites?_**

* * *

**I would like to thank everyone that submitted, but in the end there are only twenty-four character slots and I received thirty-nine submissions. I will be private messaging everyone that was accepted, but if you were not accepted and would like reasons as to why you may ask as well. It was actually really difficult to put this list together, and I would like to say that very few people got their first choice in district. I put tributes together that I knew would have good interactions, so I'm sorry if you're disappointed with that. **

**I hope you all will continue reading the story regardless of my decisions, but I take no offence if you choose not to. Thank you for taking the time to submit and I'm sorry that I couldn't accept all of you. **

**A lot of changes had to be made to ages, I apologize if this is an issue but I only changed it by two years at most. I needed a better distribution of ages. **

**The Reapings shouldn't take too terribly long to get through, so expect between one and two weeks for the next update. **


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